been on our best behavior, more or less. It’s time to go to places more suited to our interests, wouldn’t you say?”
Brodie felt like smiling again. “I would indeed.”
“Are you any good at cards?” Rafe asked as they left.
“Quite good,” Brodie assured him.
“Excellent. I know just the place.”
Lydia was in the middle of one of the few dances she’d been asked for when she saw the handsome Scotsman and Rafe Lennox leave the assembly room. Disappointment stirred within her as the tall, dark-haired Brodie Kincade left her sight.
Lysandra joined her as the dance ended. “Are you all right?” Her face was flushed after that last quadrille.
“Yes.” Lydia was not as exhausted from the dance as her friend. She adored dancing, and while she was rarely asked to dance at occasions like this, she danced at home whenever she was alone. While Portia was out paying calls, Lydia chose to enjoy that time either reading, gardening, or dancing.
“It seems your great-aunt has taken your sister home.” Lysandra nodded toward the entryway, where they had last seen Portia and Cornelia.
“That’s one small mercy.” Lydia felt callous for saying that, but she had so few moments to enjoy herself in public without worrying about Portia and what fresh trouble she would stir up.
“Come and say hello to Lawrence and Zehra,” Lysandra suggested.
As they made their way through the packed room, Lydia was relieved to be lost amongst the crowd for a spell. Being responsible for watching over her little sister meant there was always a chance she would end up at the center of attention, and not in a good way. It was a relief to be merely among the throng and not have to worry what Portia was up to.
“Lawrence, Zehra.” Lysandra greeted her older brother and his new wife. Lawrence turned his attention to Lydia. “I’ve brought Lydia over, as promised,” said Lysandra.
“Miss Hunt, a pleasure to see you again.” Lawrence was a handsome red-haired devil and quite charming when he wasn’t brooding. Since he’d married Zehra, he’d been brooding less and beaming more. The man was clearly infatuated with his wife, but that didn’t stop him from being courteous. Lawrence bowed over Lydia’s hand.
She smiled. “It is my pleasure as well, Mr. Russell.”
He turned his attention to the woman at his side. “Please allow me to introduce you to my wife, Zehra. Zehra, this is Miss Lydia Hunt.”
Lydia smiled warmly at the dark-haired, olive-skinned woman. She was exquisitely beautiful. It was no wonder that the last time she had met Lawrence he’d been preoccupied, because he’d already met his beloved Zehra. There was quite a story behind it as Lysandra had informed her. Zehra had been captured in her father’s homeland of Persia by a rival tribe and sold into slavery, only to be secretly bought by Lawrence. Zehra was in fact a Persian princess and a granddaughter to an English peer. Once Lawrence had freed Zehra, he had kept her at his home, in secret, until he could stop a Persian slave trader who had wished her harm.
“It is wonderful to meet you, Miss Hunt.” Zehra curtsied, and Lydia did the same.
“Am I to understand we have rescued you from a bit of unpleasantness?” Lawrence asked.
“You have indeed, and I am most grateful. My sister, Portia, was quite determined to make a spectacle of herself. Our chaperone, Mrs. Wilcox, was quite upset. You spared me a long coach ride home, having to witness their duel of words.”
“Ah, I understand. Quite glad to be of service.” Lawrence shared a grin with his wife. “Well, we are ready to leave when you are. Or we can remain a bit longer.”
“I am ready,” Lydia assured him. In truth, she was tired enough to go home, knowing the moment her head hit her pillow she would be asleep. In London, balls could go into the early morning, when dawn turned everything a pale gray before the sun crested the horizon. But in Bath, balls ended promptly at eleven, and it was nearly eleven now.
“Then, shall we?” Lawrence waved a hand. The trio of ladies fell in line behind him, and they walked outside together, where Lawrence summoned their coach home. During the ride to Lydia’s residence, the women exchanged news of their mutual friends.
“We shall be attending the Pump Room tomorrow, if you would like to join our party,” Zehra offered.
“I would like that very much,” said Lydia.
“Wonderful. We will meet tomorrow after lunch, around two o’clock.”